Now welcome Summer with thy sunne soft,
That hast this winter's weathers overshake,
And driven away the longe nighties black.
Saint Valentine, that art full high aloft,
Thus singen smalle fowles for thy sake:
Now welcome Summer with tye sunne soft,
That hast this winter's weathers overshake.
Well have they cause for to gladden oft,
......
Oh, to be married
to a man like you!
Is love a game
to win or lose?
A contest to challenge
to get the best of it
Or is love a compact
between two affectionate people
who don't need to "win".
to find fulfillment
......
My songs should be as lilies fair,
And roses made of crimson light,
To lie amid the fragrant hair
And on the breast of my delight.
Such glory is for them too high;
I'll scatter them adown the street,
And when my love is passing by
They will rise up and kiss her feet.
Too high, too high to pluck
My heart shall swing.
A fruit no bee shall suck,
No wasp shall sting.
If on some night of cold
It falls to ground
In apple-leaves of gold
I'll wrap it round.
......
She is neither pink nor pale,
And she never will be all mine;
She learned her hands in a fairy-tale,
And her mouth on a valentine.
She has more hair than she needs;
In the sun 'tis a woe to me!
And her voice is a string of coloured beads,
Or steps leading into the sea.
......
Valentine, Valentine,
Why do you refuse to be mine...
I send you expensive gifts
of red roses and fine wine...
I invite you to fancy restaurants,
And theatre and to the play...
You treat me with distain
And you tell me to ‘stay away’
......
He said:
"In the winter dusk
When the pavements were gleaming with rain,
I walked thru a dingy street
Hurried, harassed,
Thinking of all my problems that never are solved.
Suddenly out of the mist, a flaring gas-jet
Shone from a huddled shop.
I saw thru the bleary window
......
MOTLEY I count the only wear
That suits, in this mixed world, the truly wise,
Who boldly smile upon despair
And shake their bells in Grandam Grundy's eyes.
Singers should sing with such a goodly cheer
That the bare listening should make strong like wine,
At this unruly time of year,
The Feast of Valentine.
We do not now parade our "oughts"
......
"Vocat aestus in umbram"
Nemesianus Es. IV.
E. P. Ode pour l'élection de son sépulchre
For three years, out of key with his time,
He strove to resuscitate the dead art
Of poetry; to maintain "the sublime"
In the old sense. Wrong from the start --
......
Hail Bishop Valentine, whose day this is,
All the air is thy Diocese,
And all the chirping choristers
And other birds are thy parishioners,
Thou marryest ever year
The lyric Lark, and the grave whispering Dove,
The Sparrow that neglects his life for love,
The household bird, with the red stomacher;
Thou maks't the black bird speed as soon,
As doth the Goldfinch, or the Halycon;
......